


Bite Me Hard, Bite Me Slow

by mt_lyfe



Series: Would You Like A Bite? [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Vampire, BAMFs, Biting at Femoral Artery, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Don't copy to another site, Exhibitionism, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Table Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampire Stiles Stilinski, Violence, Werewolf Derek Hale, biting kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mt_lyfe/pseuds/mt_lyfe
Summary: The collarless tight fitted Henley the werewolf always wore accentuated his broad shoulders and does absolutely nothing to cover up his neck, it makes Stiles’ knees weaken at the sight. He couldn’t resist teasing the man. “Keep your neck covered you hussy! Less you want every vampire in town to descend on you.”A raised eyebrow, “you offering?”Oh that low gravelly voice did things to him. Derek’s being a major fang tease. Maybe he’s into biting. That thought just tugged on Stiles’ weak vampiric heart.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Would You Like A Bite? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932937
Comments: 26
Kudos: 384





	Bite Me Hard, Bite Me Slow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CelestialVoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/gifts).



> Thanks to CelestialVoid who offered to listen to a complete stranger rant and rave. Without that I would have finished this a lot later and with a lot more angst-ing on my part.
> 
> Sixteen docs and six months later I'm done. This was the BAMF Vampire Stiles fic that I always wanted to write. Though I don't know about the BAMF part. I tried to pour nuclear waste on this to make it grow a third leg and take off running, didn't work. It's still the longest thing I've ever written so it's a milestone for me!

He should have stayed in California and gone with Scott to Stanford. He _really_ should have listened and not left even though Columbia offered him a full ride. Yea he didn’t know supernatural creatures were a thing at the time until he got kidnapped by one, a vampire at that. Who knew that vampires lived in New York? In retrospect it was close enough to the Canadian border that maybe they liked snow and it was perpetual winter all year round so there wasn’t as much sun. That made sense.

When the guy said he would help train Stiles’ spark powers he didn't realize ‘training’ meant ‘I'm going to wrench those powers away from you by way of a satanic ritual because I'm power hungry!’ so now he was dangling from a meat hook in the ceiling babbling because he was scared, and he tend to have less of a filter when he was scared. His kidnapper probably regretted not gagging him at this point but he was pretty sure it was all going to be over soon because that was one hell of an artistic looking pentagram he was drawing and it did _not_ look conducive to his survival!

“If you’re planning on offering me as sacrifice to the Dark Lord, I taste terrible. I cook and clean well. I’m all skin and bones I don’t make a very good meal. You’re better off keeping me around for housework, sweeping out the soot from the fireplace and all that. Cinderella-esque. I can be Cinderella! I can totally rock a dress! Please don’t make it be rags though, you look like someone that could afford decent clothing.” If he was going to die, he might as well die talking!

* * *

Now Stiles was lucky that the thing backfired since it turned out being a spark meant he was leagues stronger than a vampire and he got a portion of the guy’s power instead. Which meant he was now a vampire. With the need to drink blood. Fuck.

Stiles staggered out of the horror murder building and fled the premises guided by the light of the moon. He didn’t know where he was going but something in his gut said West. That’s where he went pulled by a phantom string guiding him. Maybe it was indigestion.

* * *

He arrived at where the insistent feeling had been tugging him, all the way across the country. Barely registering the sign, ‘ _Welcome to Beacon Hills’_ he was half-starved, the blood lust was almost uncontrollable. There was an inn at the edge of town suited for travellers. His senses were screaming to go there, he could smell humans and the pounding of hearts pumping fresh blood. A drunkard staggered out the building into the crisp cool night air. The man had wandered just out of range of the bright orange lights glowing at the entrance, swaying slightly before finding his footing and leaning against the side of the building, shrouding himself in the shadows.

Stiles tensed and stilled in the cover of darkness; a predator ready to hunt. Out of the corner of his senses he caught another predator approaching. The scent of their blood was definitely not human, it was prowling toward his prey. The creature hadn’t noticed there was another predator, it was eyeing the human as well. Stiles bared fangs at it from the shadows. It was his food!

The vampire wasn’t going to put up with someone else stealing his prey. He lunged out of the shade and attacked.

A crash slammed the side of the building just inches away from the drunken man sobering him instantly. The violent roar of hungry beasts echoed into the night. The man had fallen onto the ground in shock, shaking with fear and adrenaline, gathered up his wits and with shaky legs he ran.

The two predators were too busy fighting, tearing at fur and skin to notice. Blood tainted the air. Stiles overpowered by the scent gave in to his blood frenzy, somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that the human prey had escaped. He was hungry. His blood and the creature's were soaking the night air; this was his prey now. Hunger, food. He sank sharp fangs into its jugular and clamped down hard.

Blood gushed out and he kept drinking while the creature thrashed and clawed, slowly weakening. Stiles ignored the pain and his own wounds. _Feed, he had to feed._

The creature slowly stopped struggling, heartbeat giving one last thump and stilled.

Stiles came to when he drank the last drop and slowly his fangs sheathed, and he looked down at the lifeless body. Breathing heavily, covered in his own blood, his wounds healing, he was alive again, the hunger receded. He’d taken another life. He ran.

The Chimera’s body was found at the edge of town. All the blood has been drained. The residents of the inn had called in to report a fight between two wild animals. The killer was no where to be found.

* * *

Stiles hesitantly stepped foot into the bar located further in this strange new town. He’d stayed. He didn’t even know why. Instincts perhaps, though he didn’t know what kind of instincts those were. Normally he’d have fled considering the body he’d left behind. But somehow beyond all reason he stayed, laid low, and he hadn’t hunted near town again. No one was crying out murderer or leading a witch hunt against him. That was a good thing.

But he couldn’t afford to let his hunger take over again, not if he wanted to stick around. So he had to control how much he drank. To do that he needed to be sane. So here he was at a bar.

Entering cautiously he felt the air. It was still early in the evening, the last dredges of sunlight setting over the horizon before he felt it was safe enough to step foot outside. The patrons were human, not many, the night was still young.

An irregular heartbeat made Stiles glance toward the back. He met the eyes of a dark-skinned man, with closely cropped hair, the bartender; he wasn’t human. His heart was thrumming faster than a human’s and his blood smelt richer, much richer. But Stiles still had control. The bartender met his eyes and flashed gold eyes at him. Werewolf. He tensed. If this was his territory Stiles wasn’t going to win a fight against a pack of wolves. Not while he was hungry, still in control, but hungry.

The bartender stared long and hard before finally he poured out a shot of something dark red and set it on the counter, gesturing for him to take a seat.

Stiles hesitated and slowly made his way to the back holding the man's gaze the entire time. The humans didn’t matter, the most dangerous thing in the room was the bartender.

He sat down and took a cautious sniff of the drink, alcohol.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Stiles said hesitantly.

“Hmm, I had that feeling. You’ve been here a month, no deaths except that one.”

“What was that creature?”

“Chimera. Feral too. We’ve been hunting it for the last few weeks. You saved that man when you got in between them.

“I didn’t mean to; we were actually going for the same thing,” he admitted. He still felt guilt at killing the creature even if it had been feral, he wasn’t in the right frame of mind at the time.

“But you didn’t, and you haven’t killed anyone else since you came to town. We’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

“I just need to eat,” he mumbled. “I promise I won’t hurt anybody.”

“You’ll have to meet the Alpha eventually if you want to stay in our territory. Don’t let any humans find out about the supernatural.”

Right.

* * *

He finds a job at a small coffee shop in the middle of town. It’s quaint and best of all it’s open 24/7. The owner a brown-skinned cryptic man has a way with words that seems to hold infinite double meanings; he should really learn to elaborate. He also owns another business in town, a clinic which is much busier and requires his full attention. Stiles is left to run the graveyard shift by himself.

The owner has an extra room above the coffee house and even lets Stiles crash in the tiny upstairs apartment for free. It’s in need of work and has no appliances or furniture but it has running water and electricity. Throw a mattress on the floor, some blackout curtains, and that’s all he really needs. Not like he can keep blood bags in the fridge that he doesn’t have. Cold blood is disgusting.

There are some nights he’s bored out of his mind and contemplates the viability of snacking on the customers. Even though the owner smells human, Stiles has a feeling he knows more about the supernatural than he lets on if his warning of, “don’t snack on the job” is any indication. Stiles is sure he’s not referring to the display of baked goods. It’s okay to snack on the population of Beacon Hills but it’s not okay to snack on customers. That’s a big no-no. Damn his morals.

The graveyard shift is actually busier than one would expect in a small town. People come and go throughout the night. There’s a couple of beta werewolves that come by often near dawn marking the end of his shift. They’re always bloody and clothes in tatters but they walk in like it’s their norm.

The blonde one glares at him like she’s daring him to comment on their attire. She always orders a large milkshake with whip cream that’s a foot high; one diabetes in a cup coming right up. Her sharp grin is a little too feral for his comfort and reminds Stiles of a hungry wildcat. The tall one with dirty blonde hair, curls, and an English accent always orders a triple espresso that’s guaranteed to give him a heart attack before sunrise. They become regulars during his shift.

* * *

While he’s at it, he and Scott are playing telephone tag. They keep missing each other which is fair because Stiles can’t be awake during the day and Scotty is most likely on a normal human schedule.

He doesn’t text because he’s afraid how to break it to his long-time friend. It seems Scott has something he needs to get off his chest as well.

_‘Hey, it’s Scott, can’t make it to the phone right now. Leave a message after the beep.’_

_Beep: ‘Hey Scotty I’m back in Cali.’_

_Beep: ‘Stiles! Good to hear from you, me too. Hey, listen I’m not in L.A. Situations changed.’_

_Beep: ‘There’s something I gotta tell you. It’s probably better to do it in person. Listen, uh I’m in Northern Cali. In a small town. Beacon Hills.’_

_Beep: ‘Holy shit man me too! We need to meet up! There’s something I need to tell you too...’_

Stiles is nervous, they haven’t talk for a while and his new condition took a lot to get used to.

He arrives at Scott’s little flat as soon as the sun sets because that’s the earliest that he can be out.

He hesitantly rings the doorbell and waits full of jitters.

Scott rips the door open and spits out “listen—" his nostrils flare, eyes widened and instinctively flash gold. “Holy shit you’re a vampire!”

“What the fuck man I turn around and now you’re furry,” Stiles retorts.

There’s a moment of silence as they both contemplate the change and sudden baptism into the supernatural world, they both collapse in laughter. The tension bleeds out. All the worry, avoidance and wondering how he was going to explain everything dissipates. A lot has changed but it seems like they still have each other.

“You have to meet my pack!”

* * *

Stiles stepped out from the back room after he made sure his latest meal got into a taxi home safely. He scanned the room and spotted Scott sitting near the wall by the back. Heading in that direction he plunked down just as Scott took a pull of his beer.

A low growl sounded to the side. Turning he spotted a pack of werewolves sitting a couple tables away all eyeing him.

Stiles startled when he saw some familiar faces and hissed at Scott, “you didn’t tell me you knew blondie and Curls here!”

“I talked to them. As long you don’t kill anyone they won’t attack. I told them you’re my best friend and we could use the extra non-violent creature in the town to even out the murdering ones.”

“The curly-haired one is Isaac. He and Erica take the night patrols around our territory. They have been stopping by the coffee house after their shift ends.” Scott waved over to the tall dark-skinned man with short, cropped hair. “Looks like you’ve met Boyd too. He’s Derek’s second.”

Boyd the bartender he’d met from before nods at him, he already knows Stiles isn’t a threat. That left the last broody looking wolf glaring daggers at him. Crimson eyes flash and yep alpha sighting confirmed. He flashes his purple spark-coloured eyes back and gives a cheeky grin. The alpha’s eyes widened minutely in surprise.

The guy looked like he was really territorial, and Stiles was probably going to enjoy pissing him off.

The blonde-haired beta Erica, comes over and plunks down on the seat across from Stiles. She takes an indiscreet sniff and the familiar feral grin crosses her face. “Batman huh. Want to see if you can drink me under the table?”

* * *

He was being watched. The pack tolerated his presence in town. Granted snacking on the wonderful human population was cause for concern. Someone was always watching him wherever he went to hunt. He would call a taxi for his meal-of-the-night and watch them get in. He was always courteous with the food and made sure they got the cab home. Stiles should take offense at the scrutiny he was a gentleman okay! Or gentle vampire. Except when he got hungry; then he got hangry. Hangry Stiles was not a fun Stiles to be around. Just ask that chimera. Or not. Since it was dead.

* * *

He didn’t know much about the abundance of creatures coming into town, though he heard snippets. Stiles wasn’t part of the pack, so he stayed away from their business. It seemed like that wasn’t going to last forever.

 _‘Deucalion’s pack is in town. They have Erica and Boyd.’_ Stiles stared intently at the last text that Scott sent. _‘We’re going in to get them back. They don’t know about you yet, stay put.’_

Stiles peered out the heavily curtained window and grimaced, the sun was high in the sky, it was past dawn. The text was sent hours ago and nothing after that. Nothing saying they’d made it out.

Tightly gripping his phone, Stiles steeled his resolve and stepped out into the day.

* * *

Even though he stuck to the shadows as best as he could, he was still covered in burns by the time he tracked down Scott’s trail to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. Listening intently he could hear several heartbeats in the building, some sluggish and slow but definitely still alive, along with the sound of fighting.

Busting in he found Scott unconscious on the cement. His heartbeat and breathing were steady. It looked like he would take a while to heal. A few feet away was Isaac sprawled in a similar state. Up ahead still unaware of the latest intruder was Deucalion, Ennis and Kali surrounding a half-shifted Derek. He was bleeding heavily from multiple gashes that were slow to heal from another Alpha’s inflicted wounds. Not that Derek didn’t give as good as he got, the enemy was littered in gashes and gouged out skin, but three against one, Derek’s chances of winning were slim. Stiles wasn’t sure two against three would make the odds any better, but with Scott knocked out it was the only chance they had.

He charged and joined the fray. Jumping onto Ennis’ back before his slashing claws could connect with Derek’s throat, briefly startling the wolf and knocking him off balance. Ennis quickly recovered and turned his attention to the newest pest on his back. Roaring he ripped Stiles off and flung him toward the steel walls, crashing and leaving a sizable Stiles shaped dent in the metal. Had he still been human he would have died from the impact. A large heavy metal beam was thrown in his direction for good measure, crushing him further into the wall before Ennis turned his attention back to Derek, who was slashing and fending off dual attacks from Deucalion and Kali.

Stiles groaned nearly blacking out upon impact. His head throbbed as blood trickled down his temple. That was going to be one helluva hangover headache to deal with if they survived this. His vision was spotting and darkening, struggling weakly against the heavy metal beam, he couldn’t pass out now; Derek couldn’t fend off three Alphas by himself. Scott was still lying unmoving on the floor several feet away from him. Scott needed him. So did Derek.

At that thought he felt the animal within him stir. The air was heavy with the scent of blood, calling his feral side to the surface. The human was quickly losing control as bloodlust and instincts took over. The animal was stronger when desperate, grunting with effort and ignoring the searing pain of burns and broken bones he tossed the deadweight off and jumped to an animal-like crouch.

Stiles wasn’t thinking with his human brain now. His instincts had taken over and using his heightened senses he tracked the fighting figures in front of him. Locating the enemy he charged. Instincts and bloodlust were a better companion than a human conscience laden with guilt and morals. Savagery was what he needed right now. He charged without hesitation; Stiles plunged an arm through Ennis’ heart from behind instantly killing the alpha.

The element of surprise was broken now but it was a more even fight. Ripping his blood-soaked arm out with the warm pumping heart in his clawed grasp he was drowned with the need to feed. He bit down and drank. The effects of werewolf enhanced blood were instant. The searing pain of his sunlight burns faded, and his bones started to reknit; just in time to dodge a swipe from a furious Kali as she recovered from the shock of losing Ennis. Tossing the heart aside he faced off with Kali.

The sun was shining in through the high windows as well as patches from the random holes in the deteriorating roof, creating what was like an obstacle maze for Stiles to concentrate on avoiding while dodging Kali at the same time. She clued in that her opponent was avoiding stepping into the beams of light and did her best to drive him away from the shadows. Stiles still had the advantage with ingesting an Alpha’s blood boosting his power. He was still running on primal instincts hunting as an apex predator, while Kali was still operating by logic and overly confident because the sun was on her side.

His speed and strength were temporarily boosted, and he shot for the small opening as the position of the sun shifted casting a shadow on Kali, lunging, and slashing her throat. As she gurgled and choked on her own blood, he gutted her stomach for good measure ensuring she would stay down. Breathing heavily at the exertion Stiles’ conscious was starting to resurface. His baser instincts slowly started to recede as his life wasn’t in imminent danger anymore and the injuries surely healing.

Turning toward the last threat he could see that Derek’s injuries were still bleeding heavily and getting worse. He was steadily losing blood and weakening. The leader of the Alpha pack was no joke. Deucalion’s back was toward him, but Stiles was under no delusion that that would give him any advantage if he entered within his attack range. He needed a distraction. He met Derek’s eye and nodded. With a mighty roar Derek tore one of the foundation pillars from the ground and flung it at Deucalion.

Seizing the opportunity in a two-prong attack Stiles charged just as Deucalion dodged in the direction of Stiles, momentarily distracted, he took the spilt-second chance and quickly jumped onto his back and sank his fangs into the exposed jugular. Biting with intent to kill, the vampire venom excreted from his fangs caused excruciating pain, numbing the werewolf’s muscles. Deucalion went into shock and dropped to his knees while Stiles clung on. He didn’t concentrate on the blood gushing into his mouth. All he knew was that the rest of his injuries were healing at an increased rate. High on adrenaline, the scent of spilt blood and fresh kill, it was amazing.

Deucalion was temporarily paralyzed but his heart was still beating strong. It was quite hard to drain a healthy Alpha. Once Stiles was sure Deucalion was completely paralyzed, he released his death grip on his throat and ripped his head off for good measure.

Standing up on shaky legs, he wiped the blood from his lips, eyes searching and finding Derek’s.

“You okay?” He croaked out.

“Yea…” Derek staggered over to a stirring Isaac to check on his injuries. They were healing. “Let’s get everyone out.”

They didn’t have to look far before finding Erica and Boyd in the backroom covered in wounds in various stages of healing and caked with dried blood. They had taken a rough beating. Stiles tugged a half-conscious Erica to her feet while Derek hauled Boyd. Scott and Isaac supported each other dragging their feet following from behind as they made their way outside.

The sun was at high noon now, directly above their heads. Erica winced as the bright light hit her eyes. Parting her thick blond hair matted with dried blood aside to get a better look at Stiles, “it’s past your bedtime Batman what are you doing out here?” Her voice was raspy still healing from getting her throat crushed. She was leaning heavily on Stiles.

“Glad to hear you’re still talking smack Cat Women. I’m saving your assess and getting a tan at the same time. You better appreciate it.”

The werewolf blood was still pumping strong through his veins. Seemed like it delayed the sun’s burning effects though he was slowly cooking like shrimp left out in open market. “Come on guys quit dragging your feet I’m slow cooking here!”

Word got out that someone from the Hale Pack took out three Alphas at once. Never mind that Stiles wasn’t officially part of the Pack.

* * *

Walking into the bustling pub just as the last rays of sunlight sank down the horizon Stiles scanned the room. He found Derek sitting at a table at the very back immediately, catching his eyes he nodded. Derek is here watching him hunt. Stiles doesn’t mind now that he’s made it clear he’s not harming anybody.

He scanned the room again to look for suitable prey. It was pretty common to find Derek at wherever was his feeding ground for the night. After that incident with the Alpha pack, he’d just taken it in stride and joined him at his table after his meal. It was almost like hanging out if not for the fact that Stiles knew Derek was just doing it to keep tabs on him.

The guy could watch for all he cared, the thought of being watched was kind of hot. But Derek was probably not into that sort of thing.

Stiles just needed to find someone nice enough to part with a pint of their blood under slightly dubious circumstances to stave off starvation, but no one gets hurt in the end. It works out for both parties; Stiles gets to eat, and the other party gets the hook up they thought they were looking for. Erase the memories and made sure his meal on two legs got home safely none the wiser. Vampire compulsion was a definite plus to make up for the blood drinking.

He went to join Derek at his table near the back when he had his fill. The scowl on his face that greeted him seemed to be stuck on the permanent setting with how constant it is.

The collarless tight fitted Henley the werewolf always wore accentuated his broad shoulders and does absolutely nothing to cover up his neck, it makes Stiles’ knees weaken at the sight. He couldn’t resist teasing the man. “Keep your neck covered you hussy! Less you want every vampire in town to descend on you.”

A raised eyebrow, “you offering?”

Oh that low gravelly voice did things to him. Derek’s being a major fang tease. Maybe he’s into biting. That thought just tugged on Stiles’ weak vampiric heart.

* * *

He should have clued in on his prey. She was a little too willing and enthusiastic when he walked into the bar. Singling him out right away with a wink, a causal tilt of her head exposing her neck and a swish of her hips before dragging him to the back. Easy meals were hard to come by, it wasn’t every night that he scored a meal, but he had been getting better luck lately.

Derek had also been showing up to wherever he went hunting and the place became much more crowded after. He almost always scored a meal immediately after Derek appeared. Just a coincidence that’s all. He was too hungry to pass up the chance.

The woman was laughing and cajoling him into kisses as she led him toward the back. Then she slipped hands into his hair and tugged his head toward her throat, usually he was much more subtle in drinking and didn’t go straight for the neck, but he was so hungry, and it was mostly instincts at this point. In a moment of carelessness, he bit down.

He should have known.

It didn’t register until his head was getting cloudy and losing control of his limbs. Staggering back overcome with dizziness he slumped onto the opposite wall.

Vervain. Odourless, tasteless, and poisonous to vampires. One method vampire hunters use is to ingest the herb prior to luring the vampire. It would be absorbed into the bloodstream and then by default into the vampire when they drank. It was dangerous to humans in large doses so it couldn’t be done often. But if they had a target in sight it was the perfect trick. This was why hunting was potentially so dangerous. You never knew which meals you could trust.

It must have been a low dose if he wasn’t dead already, perhaps killing him in the bar was too conspicuous but taking him out quietly through the back was better. So much for thinking that someone was going for his pale bad boy look. That was his last thought before the woman hauled him over her shoulder and headed for the rear exit. He blacked out.

Stiles came to lying on a cold metal table. He couldn’t tell if it was still nighttime, luckily though there were no windows in the basement of whatever mad science experiment was about to happen. Everything was still hazy, and he was strapped down onto the table. A tilt of his head to the side confirmed that there was a needle in his arm attached to an IV stand, continually dosing him with what was probably an imitation of blood and definitely vervain laced.

He heard quiet voices next door. “The sun will be up in an hour, threaten him with that. We’ve been following him for months and not once did he lead us back to his coven. We have to find where the rest of them are and flush them out of this town.”

Ugh. They weren’t planning to kill him immediately. Interrogation. Just his luck to get kidnapped… again. He wasn’t in any condition to resist. He didn’t even have a coven. If they followed him for this long, they would have seen that. He struggled weakly but with the drug still in his system he couldn’t break the chains.

Maybe someone will notice his disappearance, was it one of the nights that Derek showed up to where he was hunting? Or Scott, he was supposed to meet Scott today. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be dead by the time Scott realized he didn’t show.

He must have blacked out again because he woke with a jolt. There was a roar somewhere far above him and screaming. Followed by the sound of gunshots being fired. Was something attacking the facility?

The sounds were coming closer and then what sounded like a body was thrown against the wall right outside the room. The metal door wrenched open, a wolfed-out Derek prowled in angry and snarling at any additional threats in the room. Finding none he shifted back and walked up to a drugged Stiles.

There was what looked like a moment of tenderness on his face as he brushed a thumb onto Stiles’ cheek before it hardened when his eyes found the needle attachment and promptly ripped it out. Then he tore the chains, anchor and all clean off the table.

“Hey, that was one hell of a one-man rescue squad.” Stiles said weakly before he rolled over and started retching trying to get the poison out of his system, narrowly missing Derek’s feet. It was too late he had already absorbed quite a bit.

Derek grunted. “Vampire hunters aren’t armed against werewolves. Different weaknesses.” He gently pulled Stiles up into sitting position on top of the table. “Drink my blood. It’ll dilute the poison.”

“No…” Stiles groaned weakly. “Werewolf blood causes addiction.”

“You don’t have a choice. It’ll be fine.” Derek pulled Stiles upright and pressed his face into his carotid artery. “Drink.” He ordered.

Stiles could smell the rich untainted blood of the Alpha werewolf trapped just beneath a layer of skin. Instincts took over, his fangs dropped unable to resist any longer he licked the throbbing vein. He briefly registered Derek giving a sharp inhale, pulse speeding up. The meal was always so much more appetizing when they were scared or excited; gets the blood pumping. He bit down into the throbbing vein.

Hot sweet blood gushed into his throat almost choking him. He felt it fill up his being and his strength slowly returned. He greedily swallowed everything that came rushing out and bit down harder desperate for more. This was even better than Deucalion's blood. He could keep drinking this forever.

It was different than when he sank his fangs down with the intent to kill. Feeding was different. Venom entered Derek’s bloodstream to stop the wound from clotting and healing. The blood flowed freely as an aphrodisiac was released causing the brain to release waves of endorphins, clouding the mind, and bring pleasure to the body to keep the heart pumping fast and the blood spilling out. Derek’s breath came in pants and it was his turn to slump against Stiles moaning wantonly. Stiles held him steady as he slowly regained his strength with each gulp of blood.

Lucidity returned inch by inch and Stiles jerked away before he was tempted to take more blood. He licked the wound close; vampire saliva had fast acting healing properties for surface wounds.

Derek’s breathing steadied, he was still pressed up against Stiles who could feel his hard nether region digging into his torso.

“Sorry,” Stiles said red-faced. “Vampire venom does… things.”

There was a moment of silence as Derek regained his composure before straightening. The werewolf healing was already replenishing his blood. The strong reaction from being bitten and fed on had caught him completely unaware.

He wrapped an arm around Stiles’ hip to help him off the table. “Let’s get out of here.”

After tasting Derek's blood Stiles didn't have to feed for a week. He tried anyways, anything to try and drown out that echo of such sweet blood. Everything seemed bland in comparison, it just couldn't compare. This was what he feared. The addiction. He had to stay away before he became a slave to his instincts again. He had to get over this before he hunted Derek down and begged to do anything for another taste of that delicious blood.

* * *

Hanging out at a 24-hour coffee house in the middle of the night when he wasn’t hunting became a thing for Stiles and Erica. Who knew there were so many places still opened after midnight in such a small town? ~~~~

“So what do you think about Derek?” Erica casually asked.

Stiles looked at her suspiciously, “just because we saved each other’s lives once doesn’t make us chummy. Derek still watches me like a hawk. He doesn’t trust me while I’m nibbling on the population of Beacon Hills.”

“Oh I’m sure he’s watching you for different reasons,” she smirked.

“Just because I drank from him one time. _One_ time doesn’t mean anything. I helped him, he helped me. That’s it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Keep deluding yourself Batman. Our fearless leader doesn’t pull a one-man army suicidal mission to save just anybody. He only does it for pack. He didn’t even stop to call the rest of us when he realized you were missing before he threw himself into tracking you down. He took down a whole facility to get to you. The only reason he survived was because they weren’t expecting a werewolf attack. He cares about you.”

“Nuh uh, no way. He’s always looking at me with those death eyebrows on full blast.”

* * *

Stiles needed a change of pace from time to time. Where to hunt food and all. So here he was all the way in San Francisco at the Chinatown night market festival.

Wandering amidst the packed stalls and bright red lanterns glowing hanging above. There were plenty of dark corners once he found a suitable meal. He spotted a tall figure coming toward him. When the figure got closer it turned out to be Derek, holding a hurricane potato skewer in one hand, a bag of deep-fried chicken skin in the other. Apparently, Derek followed him, and he wasn’t being discreet about it.

At least he looked like he was enjoying himself.

“Fancy meeting you here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you missed me,” Stiles teased.

“Did you eat yet?” He asked by way of greeting.

What was with Derek always obsessing if he ate or not?

“Nope, just got here, these things run pretty late, I got time.” It was true, the sun hadn’t even fully set yet. The red skies and slowly fading daylight amidst the rows of vendors left many shadows for him to flit from stall to stall.

It was nice watching the careless laughter and glee of the surrounding crowd at the demonstrations and shows. Surrounded by people and noise it made him feel less alone. He had enough control by now he wasn’t tempted by the multiple heartbeats and throbbing blood all within arms reach, so it was nice to just enjoy this and try to forget that he was alone. Well he’d need a meal sooner or later, but the night was just getting started.

The two eventually wandered off away from the crowd toward the trees. There was a bridge across the water. “This isn’t the time for you to make jokes like vampires and running water,” Stiles commented.

Derek snorted. “I know most of that stuff is fake anyways.”

They came to a stop in the middle of the bridge and watched the stream in companionable silence.

Derek broke it. “I followed you today,” he hesitantly admitted.

Stiles snorted, “I know, you’re not that subtle.”

“I wanted to extend the invitation. Officially ask you to join the pack I mean. I feel you’re already part of the pack, but I didn’t want to assume.”

The end of summer was near, the air was still warm, a canopy of stars canvased the sky as Stiles thought about the offer. “Oh yea okay. Great. Like a beta? I mean can a vampire be a beta?”

“Well you’ll be something. Not really a beta,” Derek hesitated, “it’s a good thing.”

“Okay?”

They reached the middle of the bridge. Stiles stopped turned and looked into Derek’s eye. “So what do I have to do to make this official? Is there a ritual since I’m not a werewolf? Do I have to submit?”

“I would never ask you to submit,” Derek said firmly.

“Hey, don’t say that, you don’t know, maybe that’s something I’m into,” Stiles teased and leaned closer.

Derek’s breath caught, his eyes quickly darted down to his lips and back up gazing into his eyes.

A peal of laughter sounded breaking the spell. A drunken person wandered into the clearing. Teetering barely walking straight and standing upright, leaning against a tree for support. The woman looked like she was on the verge of passing out.

“That looks like my meal,” Stiles parted regretfully, not before his eyes darted quickly to Derek’s neck. He stepped away before he gave into temptation or so help him Derek offered. It was better not to go there.

He slowly approached the girl trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. “Hey,” he whispered to her as she leaned heavily on the tree trunk. She barely opened her eyes to see who was addressing her. As soon as their eyes met, His flashed purple, briefly reflecting in her pupil before the compulsion took over. The wariness left her expression and her shoulders untensed as she slowly raised her wrist in offering.

Stiles didn’t want to drink from the neck while Derek was watching. Something about it seemed too intimate; never mind he’d done it hundreds of times before. The closer to the heart he got the blood from the better it tasted.

He kept as much distance from the girl as much as possible, more than usual as he bit into her wrist. He didn’t want Derek to misunderstand for some reason; not all vampires were sex crazed—he could control himself! He didn’t know where that reasoning came from, not wanting Derek to get the wrong idea about his feeding habits and yet unwilling to ask Derek for his blood at the same time. He felt awkward having an onlooker. He didn’t seem to mind people watching being, but then again he was probably half-feral and hungry during those times.

He drank enough to curb his hunger and didn’t linger. He felt unusually uncomfortable with Derek intense gaze as he fed. After he had his fill, and wiped away the bitemark, lapping up the residue blood to seal the wound, he hefted her up in a piggyback, “come on, let’s go find her a ride back. Got to make sure she makes it home.”

If Derek was looking a little more longingly at him, he chose to ignore it. What werewolf liked having sharp fangs near their vitals anyways?

* * *

“Get up, Batman.”

Stiles shrieked as Erica–gorgeous as always–swatted aside his blackout curtains and climbed in through his window. A window he kept open just because his shitty apartment trapped heat like a greenhouse during the day. She surveyed the run-down bachelor pad in obvious judgment. The fanciest thing was the mattress on the floor and the blackout curtains he specifically bought to not burn to death.

“Erica! The fuck!”

“We’re going on a picnic.” She ignored him as he made efforts to tidy up his surroundings.

Stiles stared at her. She didn’t look like she was joking. “I can’t go out into the sun in case you forgot. It’s a little case called turning into ash. I’m prone to it. Staying this pale is not voluntary.”

“Relax, Batman. It’ll be at night.”

“In the middle of the night.” He said flatly. “At a park. In the dark. When all the creepers and murderers are wandering about.”

“It’s called the full moon. Werewolves dig that. We have a campfire set up and everything after the run. We hunt, we eat, Isaac likes to do summersaults over the fire. It’s a blast.”

He frowned. That made sense. “I probably can’t make it. I gotta go out of town to hunt. Might not make it back in time.”

“Not to worry. We’ll find you a deer. Fresh. You ever tried deer blood?”

“Nope.” He hadn’t had animal blood since his trek here from New York. Mostly from smaller game, he never took down something as large as a deer before.

“Well you’re in luck. Derek is a great hunter. Just let me know if you prefer the deer dead or alive when we find it.”

“I don’t even know how that’s going to work out.”

“Simple, if you want still living and breathing, we’ll chase it to you. Or we’ll kill it right before you get there, and you’ll get first bite. It’s an honour you know. Usually reserved for the Alpha’s mate.”

Stiles frowned. “Uh okay? It doesn’t have to be alive. Just less than an hour dead would be nice.”

“You got it.” Erica stuck a 5-inch heel out the window ready for departure. “Don’t be late.” Before she vaulted out.

“Midnight!” A deep voice called from outside. Oh god, Boyd had been waiting outside listening in the entire time.

* * *

Stiles arrived at the clearing at exactly midnight. Boyd was already there tending to the campfire in full blaze. He nodded at Stiles’ arrival.

“Stiles! You made it! This is your pack welcoming you know that right?” A happy Scott jumped up and ran to him for a hug.

Their hair was all messy and with leaves and dirt like they had been running and rolling around in the forest (which they were) and all wearing the bare minimum to be considered decent. Snacks were already being passed around; not that Stiles could eat any.

A wolf howled in the distance. The pack perked up.

“Just you wait!” Scott said excitedly. “Derek’s found a big one!”

“Okay?”

Not even fifteen minutes later a hulking black wolf broke the tree line, dragging with him the spoils of his hunt. The pack watched and none of them got up to help as he hauled the deer all the way across the clearing, finally dropping it at Stiles’ feet with a slight wag of his tail before he sat back on his haunches looking Stiles in the eye.

Stiles couldn’t pin down the emotion swelling inside of him at the gesture. It was food brought right to his doorstep. His throat closed up at that thought. Not having to wonder if he’d score a meal for the night, not having to hunt alone for the first time. It should have felt awkward, Derek’s gesture, but the feeling settled into his bones with a sense of rightness.

He knelt down and accepted the offering while Derek watched with a pleased expression.

After Stiles had his fill, Derek padded over to the fire and shifted back, grabbing a bag set to the side and took out a pair of pants. Despite the night getting cooler, none of the werewolves seemed to feel the cold.

Derek called out, “Stop playing around, let’s get the food cut up and cooking.”

Boyd and Isaac who’d been playing knife tossing, heeded their Alpha. Boyd expertly threw a particularly large hunting knife at his direction. Derek caught the blade barehanded between two fingers without flinching, flipped it around to grab the handle, and began to cut up chunks of deer to cook by the fire.

As it turns out Boyd was also a master at roasting marshmallows which everyone fought over. In the shuffle to get a seat around the fire, somehow Stiles wound up pressed up beside Derek. His bare skin seemed to transfer more warmth than the blazing fire in front of him.

Stomach full and warm. The full moon peeked through the trees, the campfire bright, blazing and crackling. Surrounded by friends that seemed like family, the sound of laughter travelled for miles. Stiles hadn’t had this much fun since he got bitten.

* * *

Derek was bored and meandering about at home when the doorbell rang. He went to open it to find one Stiles on his doorstep.

“What.”

Stiles held up a family-size bag of cheesy puffs. “Hello to you too, grumpy. I come bearing gifts. We should hang out because I was craving cheesy puffs and I can’t eat them, so I’ll watch you eat these because I haven’t been able to eat human food since I got bitten. Might as well get my kicks from watching someone else eat it. Now that I said it all out loud that just sounded weird. Maybe I should go.”

Derek snorted. “And what are you going to eat. Me?”

“No, no! I’ll leave this tasty snack alone. Not that I think you’re a snack I just mean— oh bejesus I’m not making this sound any better. I’ll keep my fangs to myself! I mean unless you’re into the biting thing.” Stiles gulped. That last part ruined it all. 

‘Oh my god maybe this was a bad idea after all,’ Stiles thought to himself. What if he couldn’t keep his fangs to himself? Derek looked absolutely nibble-able in that tank top and nothing covering his neck. Even though he ate already he was still going to drool.

“Did you eat?”

Stiles perked up. Derek didn’t seem to mind his run-on filter-less mouth. He flashed a grin, “were you going to offer if I said no?”

Derek grunted and stepped aside, “don’t joke.”

“But yes, I did. Thanks for asking. I don’t need to feed everyday, so I can skip a day and hang out here. Change things up a bit, I can hunt tomorrow. I got lucky, three whole humans yesterday. Three! That’s a new record. I can take a break from the hunting. I usually can’t afford to, what with slim pickings and all going out every night is tiring, hanging out in dive bars is tiring. Sometimes I just want to crash, you know? Stay home. Not have to put on the sinister trench coat and go out looking for a meal.” Skinny pasty him could not rock a trench coat. “What if I want delivery to my front door? Not happening for this vampire anytime soon.”

Stiles shuffled closer to Derek on the couch. “What are you doing,” the wolf grumbled.

“Just let me smell the cheesy puffs dude, if I can’t eat them, I want to savor the smell.”

In between making commentary throughout the movie and laughing at all the inappropriate places, he’d stare fixatedly at Derek as he decimated the bag of processed cheesy goodness. “Just, just let me watch you eat them.” He was totally not staring at the way Derek’s throat bobbed while he swallowed the cheesy goodness. Before he knew it, his face was a little too close to Derek’s throat to be considered socially acceptable. Oops. Movie night was probably a horrible idea.

Derek snorted, “all done now, you can stop staring. Here you can smell the bag.” He smooshed the empty bag into Stiles' face.

Rude.

Other than that, Derek didn’t seem to react to Stiles’ closeness. He should have been aware of it, no predator lived this long with out some modicum of spatial awareness.

Before they knew it, it was well past sunrise and rays of sunlight peeked through the drawn curtains.

Stiles checked the time. “Holy shit! I can’t go home now.”

When Derek glared at him to shut up because his favourite scene was coming up, Stiles gave him his best puppy eyes and the most piteous sounding whimper he could muster as if to say, _‘please don’t kick me out the sun is up, and I’ll burn.’_ Which it was because it turned out they had marathon all night.

“You can stay until the sun sets,” Derek said when the credits began to roll. He didn’t sound like he particularly cared if Stiles stayed or walked out in the sun.

“Oh okay if you’re offering, it’s not like I can refuse, what with the imminent death by fireball in the sky waiting for me outside. The tanned roasted was never a good look for me, even when I was human. I avoided the beach for a reason. I burned too easily. I was this pale to begin with. I used to hide in my dorm for days on end in a research binge and forgot the time of day.”

Derek snorted, “good to know vampirism hasn’t changed your view on getting some sunlight.”

“But uh I can’t sleep unless it’s completely dark. The couch won’t do.”

“Take my room,” he grunted. “I don’t have curtains in the guest bedroom.” He crunched up the empty bag of popcorn and tossed it across the room into the trash.

“You sure about that? I thought wolves were territorial about their sleeping space?”

“Take it or you can sleep on the deck. Doesn’t matter to me either way. I’m not arguing with you, I’m going to sleep.” He left the room. The door to the guest bedroom could be heard slamming shut.

Dude ran hot and cold. What a fucking delight to be around. Good thing Stiles had a masochistic side. Not that it was a secret since he willingly hung around Derek. He was pretty sure Derek was the same considering he tolerated Stiles’ presence. They really needed to get their kinks sorted out because this sexual tension was just suffocating. Now Stiles’ brain was just going into overdrive from sleep deprivation. He was probably just imagining the tension.

Stiles hesitantly went up the stairs toward the master bedroom. It was neat albeit sparse. Minimalistic décor would be a nice way to put it. It really had no decoration; the fanciest thing was the dark comforter on top of the king size bed. Tasteful. If black on black had a taste. Oh! Derek had blackout curtains too, excellent!

It had been ages since he slept on a proper bed that was more than just a mattress in a decrepit building. If Derek said he didn’t mind, Stiles was going to take full advantage. He slipped between the sheets. High thread count, lordy lord! He’d take back the comment about minimalism. This soft mattress was like lying on a giant fluffy cloud with sheets to match. Derek’s scent of musk and pine drifted into the nose as he buried his face into the pillow and sleep overtook him.

* * *

The pack side eyeing him did not help his guilt about sleeping over at Derek’s. They were probably reacting to the fact he might smell a bit more like Derek than was acceptable by werewolf platonic standards. And yes, he was aware about the whole scenting thing and Alphas didn’t let any random person sleep in their den. But denial was a comfortable place in Stiles’ mind. He was set to stay there for the long term.

* * *

The pack was starting to choke from the combined smell of want and arousal between the two idiots. One of them just cave in and eat the other already! It didn't matter who nibbled first as long as some nibbling happened. The tension led to Erica forcibly dragging Boyd out halfway through meetings so she could deal with her own frustrations. It resulted in a lot of sex happening, just not sex between Derek and Stiles.

“Those two are _made_ for each other. You notice how Stiles eyes Derek like he’s a snack and Derek whimpers every time Stiles sinks his fangs into someone like he has a closeted biting kink?” Erica said.

A pre-intervention meeting composed of Derek’s betas. That’s what this is.

“Did you see when Derek got distracted and sliced his finger open chopping? It was because Stiles was busy sucking that blood bag! And then Stiles wouldn’t stop staring at Derek’s hands even though the cut already healed. I’ve never seen two people who share a biting kink in the same room and neither one will take the first step to gnawing the other’s neck off!” Isaac exclaimed.

“Neither of them knows how to ask for what they want,” Scott pointed out.

“They’re both pathetic you mean.” Boyd said.

“I can’t stand it anymore, someone beat them with a clue-by-four already,” Isaac groaned.

“I have a truck,” Boyd suggested calmly taking a drag of his beer.

Everyone turned to stare at Boyd.

“You asked.”

Erica placed a hand on Boyd, “babe maybe give them a chance before you resort to maiming them.”

* * *

There was a knock on his door. A knock. No one knocked. He never had visitors, or they came in through his window. A window which he still hadn’t closed what with the stifling summer heat trapped in his crummy apartment facing the East when the morning sun rose. There was a knock again. More insistent this time. Stiles wasn’t just hearing things.

He opened the door to find Derek of all people standing there. What.

“Derek what a surprise. What brings you here to my humble trashed abode?”

“You said you wanted takeout,” he grunted.

Now that was grounds for major misinterpretations.

Takeout? As in like… Derek? Stiles didn’t see him carrying around an extra human anywhere and unless Derek forgot he ate anything other than blood—and his fantasies were dashed when Derek fished out a blood bag from his back pocket.

“Takeout,” he repeated for emphasis when Stiles inner monologuing didn’t look like it was finishing anytime soon.

“Oh takeout.” Now he understood. The blood bag—that shattered all his inappropriate fantasies right there. “Wow thanks. I don’t really have anything in the ways of entertainment.” _Cough, bed._

“I brought a laptop. For movies,” Derek clarified, “we can watch something while you eat.”

It seemed like they were going to continue some tradition that Stiles had unknowingly started of dinner and a movie. Was it even that? Considering all Stiles did was watch Derek eat—and not eat Derek—what a shame. Was Derek going to watch him eat this time?

“And what are you going to eat?”

Derek grunted. Nice, pre-verbal.

“We were actually having something akin to a conversation here. Don’t stop on me now! Are you feeling guilty that I didn’t eat last time or is there some unknown wolfy joke where you say you like to munch on unsuspecting vampires? Before I let you in, I mean. Full disclosure would be nice.” Stiles was still blocking the door.

He was probably being rude but his rundown flat didn’t have much to offer unlike Derek’s posh loft.

“No there’s no such thing!” The alpha growled, “I don’t know why you’re so fixated on being eaten. I should be the one afraid. _No one_ is being eaten.”

Well that’s just disappointing. Some unintentional nibbling would have been nice.

Derek barreled past and shoved the blood bag into his chest.

If they stayed curled together on Stiles’ mattress pointedly ignoring that this was a bed—because Stiles didn’t have any other pieces of furniture in the room—huddled together swathed in blankets to watch from the tiny screen of the laptop, no one was going to say anything.

The cheesy horror movie and gore had Stiles stomach churning and he shoved his face in Derek’s arm. “I can’t watch all that blood splatter!”

“What are you talking about, you drink blood on a daily basis.”

“I am nowhere _near_ that messy! I can’t stand the sight of all that blood going to waste, it hurts!” He moaned dramatically.

Stiles stabbed the pointed end of the straw into the blood bag—Derek even brought a straw so he wouldn’t make a mess! —and sipped gratefully from the bag like a juice box keeping half an eye out on the movie. The victim staggering away covered in fake blood was so unrealistic. It reminded him of how thirsty he was just feeling. It wasn’t often he fed enough to skip a night of hunting, but it still took a toll on him. He was hungrier than usual. If he was also ignoring how Derek’s neck was just a couple inches away as he sucked from the blood bag, well he was going to stay in denial about the live breathing blood pumping body sitting in close proximity to him. He could hear the heart pumping blood.

He was sure Derek could hear the same, what with being supernatural himself. And he tried not to dwell on the thought and keep his heartrate steady. Trying not to recall the taste of his blood. Adamantly focusing on the movie. It was nice, the body contact. He usually didn’t get any aside from when he was feeding. People didn’t like to touch him because his body temperature was slightly cooler than the average human, so it felt weird. Well it was good during the summer, maybe that was why Derek was leaning so close. The warmth felt pleasant.

* * *

“It’s almost dawn! Stiles isn’t going to be awake.” Scott pointed out reasonably. Even if they were going to drag him out for a talk about staying in the river of denial it might be better to do it the next night. Afterall it wasn’t like Stiles was going to come out of it any time soon.

“We still have an hour!” Erica argued before she and Isaac vaulted through the window of Stiles’ crappy second story apartment, completely bypassing the stairs from inside the store like usual to land with preternatural grace inside the darkened room and stopped.

“Is that—” Isaac said shocked.

“It is!” Erica punched Isaac gleefully. “Those two finally got their act together!”

Stiles was half sprawled on top Derek, mouth pressed to his throat and drooling. Derek had his arms wrapped around Stiles. There was a laptop opened between them with a movie still running. Both of them dead asleep.

“They’re so cute, quick take a picture!”

“What’s going on up there?” Scott whispered from outside. He and Boyd chose to stay outside rather then climb up a window like a heathen. They were the two sensible ones.

“They’re sleeping together!” Erica whisper-shouted excitedly. “No intervention needed!

“Get outta there before Derek wakes up and kills us all!”

* * *

They’d binged all night again and passed out around dawn. Stiles woke up with lips pressed to Derek’s neck and the werewolf didn’t even react. Unconsciously necking Derek in his sleep. He didn’t break skin yet, luckily, his fangs weren’t out. Looks like sleepy Stiles got hungry and was subconsciously looking for a mid-afternoon snack and went for Derek’s neck. Bad Stiles. He jerked away. Or tried. He catalogued what he was feeling, their legs were tangled together. In fact Derek’s hand was curled around the back of his neck pressing him into his own throat like he wanted him to drink. No, bad Stiles! No snacking on sleeping wolves!

Derek roused barely awake and nuzzled into his hair before asking, “is it nighttime yet,” he mumbled. He seemed to be half-asleep and didn’t register just how close together they were. Stiles was going to die if he didn’t untangle himself from this delicious werewolf.

Stiles twisted around as much as he could in the tight grasp of a clingy sleepy werewolf and peeked at the luminescent numbers of the digital clock glowing in dark on the crooked dresser. “4:45pm a few more hours until sunset,” he answered.

Derek grunted and tightened his grip. “If the sun isn’t down yet you should go back to sleep,” and he proceeded to do just that.

Yep going to ignore that. Put that into a pile of things to ignore.

* * *

They were sitting at their usual coffee shop the next night, Stiles wasn’t acting any differently considering what she saw those two get up to the other night. She couldn’t contain her excitement for the details, “so I hear congratulations are in order. How are you and Derek?” Erica asked smugly.

“What do you mean? Same as always.” Stiles said absentmindedly wondering if it was possible to approach the other late-night patrons of the shop for a bite to eat without looking suspicious. It wasn’t crowded enough that it would go unnoticed, so he decided against it.

Erica startled, “I mean like how are you two doing together?”

“We hang out, he slept over, sometimes I crash at his place and take over his bed.” Stiles thoughts turned to how often they’d loiter in these coffee shops, only Erica ever bought a drink.

“You’re sleeping together.”

“Yea, you’ve seen my place, there’s only one bed.” He wondered if it was possible to drink one of those fancy Frappuccinos on the menu if he mixed it with some blood. Those blood bags Scott got for him sometimes from the hospital were always cold, maybe it’d taste better. He missed drinking coffee.

“But you’re dating?”

“Hmm, what?” Maybe not. As much as cold blood in an iced coffee sounded appealing someone might freak out if they saw him mixing the two.

“You aren’t dating,” she said flatly.

“What are you talking about, of course not,” Stiles said, paying attention for the first time.

She gawked at Stiles wordlessly. He wasn’t joking. She discreetly reached for her phone in her pocket and texted the beta group chat. _‘We’re going to need that clue-by-four truck stat.’_

* * *

Stiles didn’t know what was happening. He woke up with a jolt in his darkened bedroom. He was hot and burning like fire. His body was telling him he needed blood to quench it. High on fever he didn’t know what direction he was going as his body went on automatic.

The sun was more than halfway below the horizon, not that he noticed. At least he wasn’t going to burn wherever he was going. Following the predator seeking blood— _seeking the blood of mate, and bond—_ his instincts supplied, not that he was coherent enough to understand, his body was being pulled to some unknown destination. Reaching the door his body slumped against it. He scratched at it insistently not knowing what was on the other side. But every fiber in his body screamed that he had to get in. The door open and he fell toward the owner the human part of him passing out.

Derek had been feeling uneasy all day. Pacing around the house restless but not daring to go outside. He heard a thump at his door. Cautiously opening the door –it wasn’t the first time something attacked him in his home, but it would be the first time a supernatural creature bothered to knock– he caught a falling Stiles, body unusually hot with fever.

“Stiles,” he panicked. “What’s wrong? What do you need?” He held the limp body listening for any abnormalities.

“I... need blood.” The voice was much deeper, more animalistic, feral-like. Stiles didn’t sound like he was in his right mind. Derek brought him over to the couch and pulled his body onto his lap. He tilted his neck in offering. “Take as much as you want, I trust you.”

Stiles stared back, eyes dark like coal and unseeing. He lowered his head to lave at the vein almost reverently feeling the pulse pumping blood right below the skin, his fangs dropped and skated the column of the throat teasingly, before biting down. Derek thought he would be prepared for the flood of endorphins this time, but it was much, _much_ stronger.

Moaning he arched his neck back further willing Stiles to bite down harder. His body reacted to the venom and he could feel his member stiffening and filling even though blood was being sucked out of his body. His neck where the fangs entered was burning but he didn’t care. Even though the wolf should be against being so exposed and having another predator with fangs at such a vulnerable spot he craved more.

Stiles’ mouth felt warm and filled with the taste of a delicious thick heavenly liquid. The sweaty skin touching his lips was fluctuating like someone was breathing heavily. He could feel the pulse on his lips and took a gulp. Blood. Shit, he was feeding!

That thought snapped him awake like a cold bucket of water and he jerked back, nearly falling off the couch if not for strong arms holding onto him. He registered his surroundings.

He was sitting on Derek’s lap. And what a sight to behold. His head tilted back, throat bared in an act of submission and a trail of deep red blood from _his_ marks sliding down white skin. Derek’s breathing was ragged, and eyes glazed over but his arms were strong and firm around his waist indicating he was still in control and not entirely lost to the sensation.

“It’s okay, keep drinking. I’m fine. More than fine actually.” He sounded _wrecked._ His hard-on was pressed against Stiles’ thigh and he tightened his grip.

Stiles couldn’t say no to that face. Still driven by bloodlust, he lowered his head again this time to kissed him tenderly on the lips. Then he tilted toward the exposed neck again gave it a nuzzle and bit in accepting the offering.

His hand snaked down between them, hesitating for permission before grabbing at the bulge, massaging it. Derek moaned and thrust into the friction. The blood turned even sweeter, tinged with arousal.

He unbuttoned the jeans and pulled the zipper down slipped into the briefs and pulled Derek out. Stroking the hard length while he greedily drank the blood spilling out. Pleasure spiked; Stiles couldn’t get enough of this; sex with blood was the best. It was a good thing werewolf healing was fast enough he didn’t have to worry about draining Derek as he worked to milk him dry from both ends. He worked the hard length thumbing the tip until he could taste the beginnings of the oncoming orgasm. Derek arched into his climax and come shot painting streaks between the two of them. Stiles held on while his mouth flooded with the richest lifeblood he’d ever tasted.

* * *

So that happened. Stiles was in no way a coward. But as soon as he came to and found himself sprawled on top of a naked Derek, he’d panicked and fled. He’d succumb to his bloodlust again and he had sex with Derek! Whatever thing they had going between was going to be ruined just because Stiles wasn’t able to keep his fangs in check and politely away with people’s necks!

His hands were shaking as he dialed Scott’s number and listened to the dial tone.

“Stiles?” Scott answered.

“Dude I accidently slept with Derek!” Stiles screeched into the receiver.

 _“What?!”_ That wasn’t Scotty on the phone.

_“Erica?!”_

He could hear her shrieking in the background, _“how do you ‘accidently’ have sex with someone Stiles?!”_

Then he heard Boyd’s firm commanding tone that left no room for arguments, _“Stiles, 10PM tomorrow night at the bar. Be there.”_

He gulped. That sounded ominous.

* * *

Stiles goes to see Boyd as ordered the next night. Some gut feeling tells him that it’d be a bad idea to ignore Boyd. He took a seat at the counter sighing dejectedly when Boyd came up to him. Stiles said, “so me and Derek had sex.” He got that shifty eyed look that meant he was contemplating making a run for it.

“I know that,” Boyd got out a pack of O-negative blood he’d been storing in the cooler and poured out a shot. “Drink.” It didn’t sound like a suggestion. That should have been Stiles’ first warning.

Stiles goes and reaches for it, that’s when Boyd’s eye gets a glint of it’s own and with a sudden flash an ice pick from nowhere slams down and nails Stiles’ sleeve into the wooden bar top before he can react.

Holy crap Boyd was secretly an overprotective beast! That was the reminder he needed that Boyd was the second-in-command in the pack and it wasn’t just for his good looks. That guy had a hidden crazy streak.

“Stay,” Boyd commanded.

Stiles gulped. “Yes sir.” Firmly nailed down, not going anywhere sir.

“So Derek,” he continued calmly like he hadn’t just stuck an icepick inches away from Stiles’ arm and went back to drying the beer mugs, “Doesn’t like to ask for things. But he likes you.”

He finishes polishing the glass, puts it away and picks up another one. “He hasn’t bothered dating; been waiting for his mate to show up, then you come along, and Derek takes an interest, so I think it’s you. Which means you better not run.”

Stiles sees another ice pick gleaming under the counter within reach of Boyd’s capable hands. He whimpers.

“I’m glad we had this talk.” He wrenches the ice pick off the counter which was buried into the wood all the way to the hilt. “See you at the next pack meeting.”

Stiles flees.

* * *

“Your boyfriend is insane! He tried to stake me with an ice pick!” He tells Erica. They were at another 24-hour coffee shop.

She calmly sips her drink. “Why do you think I date him? You thought it was because I’m wearing the pants? He’s a hot dangerous man.” She pats his cheeks. “You’re cute. Boyd likes you too or that ice pick wouldn’t have missed. Now you broke Derek, you buy him. No refunds. Get your act together and ask him out properly.

* * *

In the end it took a family of wendigos moving in to get them together. The monsters were munching on anyone running the trails in the woods before the pack decided just fighting them as they come wasn’t feasible in the long run.

The situation was getting worse, the onslaught of attacks becoming more frequent, the gaps in between each civilian attack was decreasing

Stiles goes into research mode and finds a spell for a barrier. It requires the powers of a spark, check, and the use of blood magic. The blood requirement is too high for one person. Derek offers his as well. No surprise there.

The rest of the pack head to the wendigos’ lair and act as distraction while Stiles starts preparing the barrier spell.

He ran the edges of the territory drawing runes and dripping them in his blood until it encircled the entire border. Then he etched the magic circle onto his skin. He would be the anchor, the catalyst for the barrier.

Meeting Derek back at the center of the preserve to activate the array he took a deep breath, holding eye contact with Derek as he connected the last line of the array on his skin, arm dripping in blood, the magic activated. He felt his power violently wrench from him as it went to feed the barrier and his legs gave way. Derek caught him before he fell.

All that was left was to get more blood to complete the spell. As agreed on, he sank his fangs into the werewolf’s flesh and felt the rush of blood and energy entered his body fueling the spell. The barrier solidified. He concentrated and invoked a simple command. _‘Enemies out!’_ and felt the ground shudder as the magic rushed to obey. It was a success.

He feels something else amidst the power high. A white-hot bond flaring to life. Now that he wasn’t poisoned or driven by blood lust, he recognized the feeling. The feeling that’d been guiding him across the country to come to Beacon Hills. The man that was in his arms letting his fangs pierce his flesh. His mate.

Stiles broke contact first wrenching his fangs out, heaving. Derek wasn’t much better, sweating and breathing heavily from the amount of energy expended for the spell, their eyes met briefly before lips crashed into each other.

“Shit, we gotta—"

“Yea back to the house _now,”_ Derek gasped.

* * *

The pack trudged wearily covered in blood, healing wounds and torn clothing back to the pack house to reconvene. They’d felt the moment the barrier solidified, and the wendigos expelled out of town.

Derek had hauled Stiles away after he’d solidified the barrier. Both had sounded pretty haggard on the phone, which they supposed was normal considering the amount of power required for such a complicated spell.

The betas entered the house and stopped short; they couldn’t help but stare blatantly.

They were both on the couch, Derek’s head thrown back, body writhing, moaning loudly, legs spread wide as Stiles' face was nestled in between his legs, fangs clamped down on his inner thigh and several fingers buried deep into Derek.

Everyone could clearly see the physical hard evidence of how much Derek was enjoying this. Hard and dripping.

Neither of them stopped even though they clearly heard the pack come in and freeze in horror at the sight.

“Fifty bucks says this is accidental sex again,” Isaac croaked, finally breaking the silence.

“No, I think they worked it out this time,” Boyd answered. If his previous threatening of Stiles was anything to go by.

“What the hell, _Stiles!”_ Scott wailed. When they all wanted Derek and Stiles to get together, it didn’t mean they wanted to see the intimate details of their sex and lives. Or all the inventive places Stiles liked to sink his fangs into.

This was what they had to deal with after the two finally got their shit together and fucked without guilt.

Stiles went to town with Derek during their honeymoon phase when he realized he could drink as much as he wanted, and there was sex, _so much sex._

Before Derek adjusted to their sessions, it left him lethargic and on the verge of passing out. Even with his werewolf stamina, he couldn't keep up. He was starting to look a bit like a drug addict, high on endorphins, dazed, and pale. Necking led to biting, biting led to blood drinking and blood drinking led to sex. Not like Derek even attempted stopped Stiles, he was too busy moaning and encouraging said biting.

Stiles bounced around like he snorted too much coffee, with excess energy and a deep red flush on his normally pale complexion. So much excessive energy to annoy everybody with. Even with the required amount of blood Stiles needed from Derek to maintain the barrier, this was too much.

* * *

It was early evening when Boyd headed toward the kitchen for a quick snack. The sun hadn’t set yet, though Stiles should be awake soon. He wanted to get in and out of the kitchen befor- he stopped and cocked his head to listen. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ Sighing he continued and turned the corner. Yup he didn’t make it.

Walking into the kitchen he was greeted with the sight of Derek’s naked back covered in red welts and a pair of equally naked pale legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Thank the moon Boyd was saved from the sight of anything explicit since Derek still had his jeans on, though unbuttoned and pushed down just below his hips, leaving his cock free to ram into a naked Stiles. From the way those legs were clinging onto Derek, he was buried _deep_ in the body. Luckily, Derek’s large frame covered most of Stiles' body as he leaned over and continued to forcefully nail the enthusiastic vampire into the kitchen table.

They looked like they had been at it for a while if Stiles’ state of undress was any indication.

Derek didn’t even bother to look up as Boyd passed them making a beeline to the fridge. Hips never wavering hammering into a pliant Stiles.

The amount of times he walked in on them fucking in public places shouldn’t even surprise him by now. But he had to draw the line somewhere.

“The kitchen table is for eating guys.”

Derek barely acknowledged the comment with a grunt single-mindedly snapping his hips back and forth. Sex made him pre-verbal.

Stiles who was pressed underneath and had his face buried into Derek’s throat seemingly busy sucking a multitude of hickeys surfaced. His fangs were out and dripping blood. Panting at the unrelenting thrusts he croaked out, “I _am_ eating. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Derek’s response was to grab his hair yanking back hard, eliciting a loud moan before his face was unceremoniously shoved back into the crook of his neck. “Shut up Stiles. Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he growled. His claws dug into the wood of the table for leverage as he gave a particularly bruising thrust.

Boyd rolled his eyes as he headed back out. It was obvious that Stiles had no shame to begin with, but who knew that Derek was a closeted exhibitionist this whole time. That table was going to have to go he decided firmly.

The pack gathered for meeting and dinner later that night. Settling into their seats around the dinner table, Stiles was practically glowing and whistling cheerfully while passing out drinks as if he didn’t have his naked ass pressed onto that very same table just hours earlier.

Boyd eyed the table warily and made sure to grab a spot directly opposite to where Stiles had been pressed down into. Though knowing the two of them, the best that could have happened was the spot would have been wiped down with towels and no bleach. Just because werewolves didn’t catch regular diseases didn’t mean he didn’t want the table disinfected and then promptly burned.

He kept his mouth shut as Scott took the seat right in front of the claw marks. He might as well play Russian Roulette and eat the bullet on the first round with that kind of luck. It wasn’t as though Scott couldn’t smell the scent of sex, but Stiles and Derek were always reeking of it that everyone learned long ago to tune it out.

The pack could relax their patrol now that the barrier was guarding the town, so when the meeting ended, in a manner of celebration Boyd suggested instead of eating inside they could they all have a BBQ out front. Their firepit was rarely used since they’d all been too busy fighting the past few months.

Everyone was pleasantly full and sitting around chatting when Boyd quietly stepped inside. No one noticed when he came back out with the kitchen table braced over his shoulders. Everyone flinched when it landed into the firepit and the roaring flames shot higher.

That was the same table he’d walked into them having sex on.

“What the hell Boyd!” Stiles shrieked. Everyone was drunk off of wolfsbane laced whiskey, but Boyd wasn’t a drinker. Which meant he did that perfectly sober, “that was a perfectly good dining table!”

“I told you it was going to be disinfected,” Boyd said calmly. He seemed to take great pleasure in watching it burn. A quiet smugness that reminded everyone that even though most people overlooked Boyd’s unassuming personality, he was actually quite dangerous.

“Now we get a new one. If you defile it again, it will be dealt with in the same manner. In fact our fireplace hasn’t seen any real wood in a long time.”

“You guys had sex on the banister! Why isn’t that in the fireplace!”

He sat back down casually like there wasn’t a table sticking out of the bonfire and grabbed a poker laden with fluffy marshmallows and began roasting, “that’s different, we eat on that table.”

Not anymore. They quietly watched the table burn. Damn Boyd is scary when he wants to be.

Isaac returned from taking a leak in the woods and did a double take at the bonfire. “is that our dining table in the fireplace?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck Boyd.”

Gleeful peals of laughter escaped Stiles mouth, “well looks like we can’t have fond memories of that kitchen table anymore.”

“I don’t know about that, what about the couch?” Derek murmured.

“Good idea, until Boyd throws that into the fire as well. Reckon we can see how many pieces of furniture Boyd will burn? You need to redecorate anyways.”

“I can hear you two,” Boyd shouted while roasting his marshmallow in front of the blackening table leg.

Delight radiated between the two. Stiles sat up to press a kiss on the line of his throat, lips felt the warmth and steady beat of a pulse and the pleasant hum of their bond.


End file.
